


"And for That?"

by alliedwolves



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Tim and Martin have a good time, Tim and Sasha know people in the Humanities zine community, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23752483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliedwolves/pseuds/alliedwolves
Summary: Tim starts to feel bad about the "Will they/Won't they" bet that he and Sasha have about Martin and Jon. Martin deserves better than endless pining.So, he calls it off and takes Martin out for a night on the town.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker, Sasha James & Tim Stoker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	"And for That?"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sargarepa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sargarepa/gifts).



> Let the Archive Assistants! have nice things!   
> Title comes from a half remembered fragment: "You're Gay? And for That?"

Tim and Sasha’s bet, Tim was becoming  _ uncomfortably  _ aware, was only getting more cruel. It was clear there was  _ nothing  _ Jon could do to get Martin to stop swooning, short of  _ maybe  _ snapping and murdering someone. If the infodump on emulsifiers couldn’t do it, if the constant assertions that Martin’s research was  _ lacking  _ wouldn’t do it, if Jon obliviously accepted affection in the same way an aging street cat might could not stop the crush, then the bet wasn’t fair. 

Tim might have been on track to introducing Sasha to some excellent Oyakodon at her expense, but some things were more important. Like the wellbeing of the most nervous Archival Assistant.Martin was likely to be in all day, after his last investigation had not gone to plan and Jon was out filling in a few blanks himself such as you could from the old case files, and that meant he could signal Sasha, to come with him with the sorted and recorded statements, and offer to come back with a pastry for all three of them on return. This was an excellent plan. 

Sasha took a box too, and that was the walk to the creepy part of the institute done for the day. She listened to his concerns before putting in any input: she was good with that. Jon would grump at you, and come back three weeks later with a clearly much considered solution to the problem, Martin would make tea about it, but Sasha? She saw you. She heard you out. Tim didn’t know what his listening schtick was exactly, but he hoped it was as helpful to the archive crew as they were to him. 

Sasha laughed once he was finished explaining. “I mean, you’re basically throwing the bet, I don’t have any objections,” she said, her lopsided smile and its singular dimple brilliant as ever. “Don’t think you don’t owe me dinner at the Thai place, because I’m still sure it’s going to happen.”

Tim laughed with her. “Nah, that’s fine. Fancy, over-fiddled with Thai it is, I just think Martin deserves a chance at better, you know?” Tim hissed out a breath up his nose in frustrations. “He listened to him talk about Lecithin, egg yolks, and didn’t even stop him when he started to use  _ chemical names.  _ Boy’s got it bad. I just. I’m just going to let him know he’s got options.” 

Options that didn’t exclude Tim, if he’d been looking for something more serious. It was almost a shame he wasn’t, given how kind Martin was, and how gentle, whether despite or because of how much space he took up in a room. 

Sasha straightened up her glasses, her smile growing more fond. 

“Well, if you’re paying up, I don’t know why I’d object.” She scraped her chair back along long-worn grooves in the floor-board protecting carpet. “I’m still going to be watching the sitcom style antics, though, it’s adorable and the best mood lightener we get around this place.” 

Tim grinned. “Oh, same, if it continues. Our boy might just grow out of the crush with a little help, you know. I’m not a bad wingman.” 

“You only let the juiciest details slide afterwards.” Sasha scooped up the sorted statements, and they headed off together to put them back in the infuriatingly small part of the Statement Archives that between their work and Jon’s obsessions they’d straightened out into some semblance of order. 

“Oh, come on, like you don’t kiss and tell,” Tim said, and pretended to be thrown to the corridor wall when Sasha hip-checked him. Elias rounded the corner, and their conversation was quite forgotten for that moment in pretending a rock climbing injury had made him fall like that. 

* * *

Martin smiled up at them when they came back, weighed down with Pret snacks rather than old cassettes. He shuffled away his papers, and laughed when Sasha threw him an apple and cinnamon danish, the creases around his eyes deepening. 

Maybe Tim had it pretty bad too. 

“I got the kettle going for you, it ought to be done soon,” Martin said, and all of them trooped into the break room, where indeed the archaic kettle that was probably older than Gertrude had been was whistling its last stages of boiling. Martin had set them up right: A wide cup with a splash of milk and a tiny bit of sugar for Tim, no milk and two spoons for Sasha, and milk and a spoon of sugar for Martin. Jon’s mug sat nearby, empty but for a tea-bag: No doubt Martin would take it in for him, when he got back. 

“Thank God it’s Friday, huh?” Sasha said, settling herself in one of the oddly stately armchairs. Honestly, much of the Archives was set up like that: as though someone a long time ago had put a fair chunk of money into setting up a workplace for genteel scholars, and years of being lived in had given the place a little too much personality, but hadn’t worn away its splendour altogether. 

“Deffo. I’ve got Sunday sorted– You doing much, Martin?” Tim asked, setting Martin’s danish on a plate before giving his brownie and Sasha’s custard and raisin thing the same treatment. He left Jon’s almond croissant in its red paper bag on a plate, tightly folded in case of some creepy crawlie. 

Martin shook his head, bringing over their mugs and going back for his own. “Nothing for me, Shopping and laundry, mostly.” 

Tim snapped his fingers like the idea had just occurred to him, and ignored Sasha’s eye-roll. “You want to come for a night on the town Saturday?” he asked. “I’ve got tickets to someone’s zine launch, so it won’t even run too late.” He winked. “It’s a queer joint, so maybe we can set each other up.” 

“Oh,” Martin said, a worried smile coming across his face, “You don’t have to invite me, if you’re going, I’m not going to fuss about hearing gossip to you and Sasha’s party.” 

Sasha snorted. “I’m  _ not  _ going to Gus’s zine launch.” 

Tim grinned. “I’m pretty sure it’s a fight on sight for you and Gus. And honestly fair.” 

Sasha’s face went flat, her lips drawn, the teeth still showing. “If he apologises, we can make it up. But an actual apology, this time. None of that “Sorry you feel that way” guff.” 

“That’s the only reason I’m still going, that it could, theoretically, be fixed.” Tim and Sasha made eye contact, and nodded. They, at least, were cool. 

Martin watched, wished he had that kind of synergy with anyone. Well, okay, especially Jon, but anyone at all. They sat comfortably together on the shabby, too-ornate tearoom lounge, And he took up as little space as he could on the one person seat opposite. They turned to him in unison, too. 

“So you really  _ should _ go, keep him company,” Sasha said, smiling softly. “Keep him out of trouble.” 

“Well, if you put it like that,” Martin said. He wasn’t sure, still, that he wanted to go, but it sounded better than toasted sandwiches and  _ Pointless  _ rereuns. 

“Brilliant. I’ll shout first round, make it up to you,” Tim winked, and Martin felt all at once far too much in a way it seemed Tim never did. Comfortable in himself, was Tim, and in his company, maybe some of that would rub off. 

“See you then.” Martin said, more firm in his decision this time. 


End file.
